Closure
by hplvrgurl132
Summary: Tragedy strikes at the final battle. What will Harry ultimately do to finally reach the peace he's been searching for?


Harry could not believe it. He literally could not comprehend the unbearable, unimaginable truth. Ginny was dead. She had been hit by the killing curse and just like that, she was dead, gone forever. He would never hold her again, never hear her gurgle of laughter, never run his hands through her hair again.

He looked at her with a strange look, because she was a strange sight. She looked as if she was sleeping peacefully, and at any moment she would wake and give him that look that she always gave him when she had just awaken: she would look at him as if she had not seen him in years.

Harry could not cry, could not wail. He could not even muster up his face to show emotion. Years of this bloody war had hardened him. He could kill without thinking twice. He could perform any sort of magic imaginable, even if it was dark; he would do it to win that battle to defeat the Dark Side and to protect the ones he loved. But he could not protect them all. Those he loved most had died. And now, when his most beloved had died, he could not make sense of it.

Then there was pain. There was pain in his heart. Then came the anger. It was so intense, so constant, he thought he would burst.

And he did burst.

Harry stood up, straightened his robes, drew his wand, and began killing. He was radiated pure hatred as he blocked and dodged and waved his one until, one by one, he killed every single Death Eater who was battling that night.

Harry collapsed onto the ground and leaned against a gravestone, panting and sweating. He buried his face in his hands and the grief overtook him and his heart was pounding with the deaths he had just caused. The Order of the Phoenix stood around him, their faces showed disbelief at what Harry had just done.

Harry looked up from his palms and saw a strange purple smoke drift around the figures of the Order, and he saw their bodies drop to the ground. He desperately hoped that they were only unconscious.

"Don't worry, Harry Potter, they are," said a voice. It was a voice that had haunted Harry almost his entire life. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. There was a figure walking over to him wearing flowing black robes.

It was Voldemort. Lord Voldemort: his sworn enemy, his hunter and his prey. Harry stood up and drew his wand once more. The wood felt warm in his hand, as though the magic was flowing through him. He felt powerful.

Harry's breathing was heavy and his eyes were lit with a fire fueled by determination and anger. Or so it seemed to Voldemort, at least.

"Do you intend to kill me with cold blood running through your veins, Harry?" he asked Harry.

A small smile formed on the corners of Harry's lips. He knew what was really driving him to kill Voldemort.

"Ah, yes, you still have it in you to smile, I see. Soon you will become like me and all you will be able to manage is a mere smirk or a sneer," said Voldemort.

"I will never become like you," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"You already have," spat Voldemort. "I can see it in you. You feel the power, Harry. It comes with killing, with reckless abandon for all morals. You have murdered so much that you feel invincible. That is until you realize that you can still be killed. That's why I meticulously created the horcruxes. I destroyed my soul to save my body, to save the power I have gained. To think that it would go to waste…"

"It has gone to waste," countered Harry. "It went to waste when you decided to use it for dark things. You decided to use it for evil even when you were just a child. You terrorized those other two children in that cave. Then you had another chance to decide when Dumbledore offered you a place at Hogwarts. You used your powers for dark. That is a true waste."

Voldemort looked venomous. "I'll tell you what a waste is, _Harry. _A waste is using power to keep muggles from a Quidditch match, to make a new model of a racing broom, to invent a thick-bottomed cauldron. A real waste is making a school and accepting those who are unworthy."

At this, Harry let out a chuckle, which made Voldemort look, if it was possible, even angrier.

"How can you honestly say that? You, a half-blood, saying that muggle blood shouldn't be mixed with wizard blood? You, raised by muggles and unaware of the magical world for your childhood, are saying that we should keep those who don't know our world out?"

It was Voldemort's turn to chuckle, although it was more of a meek cackle. "And look how I turned out. You and I have similar pasts, Harry, and look: you're turning out like me. You killed twelve people tonight. Like I said, you've got cold blood running through those _noble _veins of yours. Your power will eat at you bit by bit until you seek more of it."

"Power never ate at Dumbledore," said Harry. "He was more powerful than you'll ever be and he wasn't useless. His power didn't go to your definition of waste."

"And he was killed," countered Voldemort, sneering.

Harry's eyes lit up once more.

"See, Potter? The anger is taking you over. Hate is controlling you, driving you."

The smile came back to Harry's lips. Voldemort was wrong.

"No, Voldemort. What's driving me is love; love for my parents, love for Sirius, love for Dumbledore, love for Ron, love for all of the Weasleys, love for Lupin, love for Tonks, love for Hermione, love for Ginny, and love for all those who are still alive and are endangered by your evil every single day. Sure, I'm angry and driven. Sure, I'm powerful. But it is for love."

Voldemort opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment something gleaming white sped towards him. It was Prongs. It was Prongs in all of his glory, exuding happiness, family, friendship, and love. He charged towards Voldemort and disappeared inside of him.

Then beams of white light shot out of his face, then his chest, then his arms and legs. New beams shot out until Voldemort was nothing but a ball of the purest white light.

Then it was gone. It just…disappeared. Voldemort was finally dead. None of his soul remained, there was no life for him to cling onto. He was gone.

It felt like a weight had been suddenly lifted off of Harry's shoulders. There were no more expectations of him. There were no more horcruxes left to find. There was no more prophecy to constantly loom in the back of his mind like a dark cloud before a storm.

But then came a wave of a strange feeling. A feeling he hadn't felt since before his eleventh birthday, when he was living in the cupboard under the stairs in Privet Drive.

Harry felt lonely. Everyone that was close to him had died. They had died to overcome evil. There was no one left to stay with him during a rainy day by a roaring fire and assure him they would always be together no matter what the war brought. There was no one beat him shamelessly at wizard's chess or dare to eat the strange-colored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with him. He even missed that person who always scolded him when he was reckless with a stern face while peering over the top of a large book.

Harry sat back against the gravestone. What would he do now? What could he possibly do now? What life was there to live now? He couldn't go apply for some dsk job at the ministry. He didn't want to be an auror. He had done enough fighting evil for one lifetime. He had done enough. He had made the world safe and happy until the next bad wizard came along and had someone out there to match him. Life would go one for the wizarding world, but not for Harry.

He drew his wand and summoned a bit of broken gravestone towards him. He carved into it by magic a note. It was simple, really.

_I, Harry James Potter, have defeated Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, on this October 31st. He was defeated, not by a fantastic and great duel between the two of us, but by love. When all else fails, love will prevail over evil. I leave you now, wizarding world, for I have completed the task I was named to do since infancy. I have lost those who I have loved and who have helped and guided me on my way to this victory. I have lost them and it is time that I find my way to them. Thank you, wizarding world, for a chance to find myself, experience love, and make this place a bit better for everyone._

_Sincerely,_

_The Boy Who Lived _

Harry saw the familiar but still brilliant flash of green light coming towards him. He smiled. He could hear a small gurgle of laughter.


End file.
